Jokes, Part 3

Years before she stole her first Parliament Light from her mother’s pocketbook, M&Ms were her vice. When she finally decided to lose the weight that years of McDonalds and third helpings and video games as exercise had left on her, M&Ms were the hardest thing to quit. She remembered how stubborn those last pounds had been, how they seemed hellbound on not coming off until the day she finally passed through a supermarket checkout without reaching for her treat, the last bad thing she allowed herself.

Fucking M&Ms. The feel of a fistful of them thrown into her mouth, clattering against her teeth and slipping along her slick tongue. The crunch as she bit down. The way the bits of candy shell rearranged themselves in the mortar her mastication made of the chocolate insides.

She opened her eyes, surprised to find she had closed them, even more surprised—and a bit disgusted—to find that she was licking her lips. She was in the bedroom now to boot, staring down at the mess of green candies strewn across her bedding.